


Even Sushi Rolls Need Heroes

by luxpermanet



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxpermanet/pseuds/luxpermanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris just wanted a nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Sushi Rolls Need Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 10: Heroes of the Kradamadness Challenge.

The Kris-Sushi was a warning. Everybody who knew Kris Allen was well aware that if they stumbled across the lump in the rolled-up patchwork quilt, he wanted to be left alone. Right now, the infamous Kris-Sushi was lying smack in the middle of a local park because its occupant had been desperate to escape the zoo that had taken over his house.

Stupid relatives and their stupid surprise weekend visits that deprived Kris of proper sleep.

So far, his afternoon nap had been going well. Being wrapped up in his little roll put Kris in a bubble of his own. He had gotten around to a good hour's worth of sleep, and was content to spend the rest of the afternoon rolled up until his Mama called him back for a snack. It had been a childhood habit he had failed to get rid of, but it suited him just fine because his increasing need for privacy was hardly ever satisfied. Kris liked his me-time very much, and being Kris-Sushi was a big help in that department.

"Hi, are you homeless?"

Kris flinched. Of course. The typical curious stranger.

"I'm napping," he mumbled. "Or at least I was until you asked me if I was homeless. I'm really quite fine, so you can, uhm, run along now."

The voice was slightly familiar--sweet, friendly and rather musical. It also belonged to someone who did not understand that the Kris-Sushi was a warning sign.

"Why are you napping here?" the stranger asked. "It's an odd place to nap, if you ask me. Why not nap at home in your room like everyone else does? Also, why are you all rolled up in your blanket?"

Kris sighed. So many questions! Perhaps if he answered them all, the stranger would go away and leave him in peace.

"My family is having guests over, so I can't get a decent wink of sleep at home. This is the only thing that's been working out for me, so I'm sticking to it. People always stare and ask me weird things like you just did, but I live with it."

The stranger laughed. "Well, I found it cute. Tell you what--why don't you take a nap at my house? I live there by myself, so you can sleep all you want. I promise I'm not a serial killer."

"That's really nice of you, but I shouldn't be taking naps in other people's houses," Kris replied. "My Mama would be very angry."

"Oh, but I'm not 'other people'!" the stranger protested. "I'm your friend now!"

Kris blinked. "Didn't your Mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers? For all you know, I could be a druggie pretending to be napping here so I can steal all your stuff."

"You can't be a druggie," his companion said smoothly. "You sound pretty coherent to me right now. Also, bad people don't talk nice about their mothers. They don't call them 'Mama', either."

"...okay," Kris laughed. "You win. I believe you."

"Awesome! Let's go, then."

Before Kris could object, he felt himself being lifted off the grass and over what was presumably the shoulder of his new 'friend'. Panicking at the idea of being kidnapped, he wiggled in the other man's grasp, failing rather pathetically because he was all bundled up in his sushi roll.

"You're taking me to your van, aren't you?" he wailed. "You're going to stuff me in your trunk and take me to your lair so you can torture me and kill me afterward!"

"You watch way too many serial killer movies, honey," the man cajoled him. "If it comforts you, I drive a Mustang."

A rich serial killer. Great. The car probably belonged to one of his past victims. Kris was going to be driven to his death in a Mustang.

A beeping sound interrupted his thoughts. He felt himself being deposited into what felt like the backseat of the so-called Mustang.

"Okay, so we're going to get you out of this so you can be more comfortable on the way home," Kris' kidnapper was saying. "God, did you weld the ends together or something?"

"Nah, just some tricky folding," Kris said with a shrug. "Call it blanket origami, if you will. Try groping around the sides, I think I tucked one of the edges into the bigger folds."

"Normally, groping entails happiness instead of frustration on my part--aha! There it is! I think you'll be able to pop your head out now."

Kris flinched as he felt the stranger unwrap the part of the quilt covering his face. There wasn't much he could do without his hands or his legs, but Cale did say he delivered a pretty nasty bite.

Teeth, after all, were better than nothing.

"I was right!" the other man said happily. "You are pretty."

Kris hesitantly opened his eyes--and came face-to-face with Grammy winner and platinum recording artist Adam Lambert.

"Hi!" Adam looked way too happy to see him. "I'm Adam."

Kris' 'kidnapper' wasn't actually a kidnapper, which was good and relieving and totally amazing yet terrible and embarrassing and absolutely undesirable at the same time.

How was he supposed to talk to the celebrity he jacked off to in his bed and in the shower every single night?

Kris Allen had the most terrible luck in the world.

~*~

"Aha! I have conquered the secret of the blanket origami!"

Kris groaned as Adam folded the quilt neatly before handing it back to him. He had been insistent on learning how to unroll Kris, so they had spent a ridiculous amount of time talking about which tucks went into which folds in Adam's living room.

"...erm, good for you?" he said dumbly.

Seemingly satisfied with Kris' answer, Adam grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him up a flight of stairs, not stopping until they reached a pair of double doors near the end of the hall.

"Welcome to the lair of the Lambert," he said proudly, throwing the doors open. "Please, feel free to nap on my bed."

Kris was speechless. He was standing in Adam Lambert's extremely luxurious room with an open invitation to sleep on his mammoth-sized bed. This was not real.

"...oh my god," he breathed. "My favorite singer just outright invited me into his house and into his bed. I am still napping and this is nothing but a wonderful dream."

"You're very much awake, babe," Adam said, sounding amused. "Also, you're in a situation where folks would kill to fill your shoes."

"Are you kidding?" Kris asked incredulously. "If I weren't me, I would slit my throat in envy of whichever fan managed to worm his or her way into Adam Lambert's house! Fuck, I sound like a total creep. I am shutting up forever in fear of embarrassing myself further."

"You're tired, that's all," Adam said sympathetically, herding Kris towards the bed. "Take your nap; you'll feel so much better after."

"At least let me take off my own shoes!" Kris protested, flailing uselessly as Adam pulled off one of his scuffed Converse shoes. "They're old and dirty and you have no idea where they've been."

"Gosh, you really are adorable," Adam laughed. "It's fine, Kris; I'm not that much of a diva. If you've been picking up the tabloids at the local convenience stores, more than half of them contain fabricated stories. If you think about it, I'm really just a regular guy."

"With the most amazing voice in the universe," Kris sighed, burying his face into one of the pillows. "And god, speaking of amazing, this tops all the blanket rolls I've wedged myself into."

"I take it you like the sheets, then," Adam smirked, flopping down next to him. "Egyptian cotton is the shit, I tell you. I sleep like a baby when I'm bundled up in these sheets."

"Jesus, don't scare me like that!" Kris popped up like a clown in a jack-in-a-box. "I'm already terrified that I'm in your living space; don't scare me even more by being in my breathing space."

"Oh, will you quit thinking of me as a celebrity?" Adam sighed. "It gets really exhausting sometimes."

Kris wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He was such a jerk.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It's just that I don't know you at all, so I have no way of knowing how you like to be treated. Maybe we should give each other a break and go with the flow?"

"My idea exactly," Adam brightened. "Now, lie back down and stop being so fidgety."

Kris obeyed, and they lay side-by-side in comfortable silence. He took that time to really look around Adam's room, trying to see what he was like underneath all the glitter and glamour. Of course, the first thing he noticed was a framed blown-up version of one of his favorite posters. It was one of Adam completely nude with only his platinum album blocking his bits from view. Kris had blushed extra hard when he had seen it for the first time, and had ended up plastering it to the ceiling above his bed to incite...creative inspiration.

"Raunchy, isn't it?" Adam asked cheerfully. "I had a lot of fun doing that shoot; it was so liberating not to have to worry about wardrobe for once. Did you ever get a copy of that magazine?"

"Uhm, yes," Kris stammered, a blush staining his cheeks. "I uhm, have the poster up in my room, too."

"It got the honor of a prime spot, I hope." Adam winked at him. "I think my naked two-dimensional self would be quite excellent at keeping one Kris Allen company."

Kris buried his face into the pillow again, embarrassed at the idea of telling Adam that it was right above his head for masturbation purposes. There was no way in hell that he was going to survive the afternoon.

"Well, it's hanging where I can see it," he said, voice muffled by the pillow. "I hope that's a good enough answer for you."

"I'll take it as a compliment," Adam said smoothly. "Now, get some sleep, pretty baby. I promise I'll wake you up if you sleep too long."

Napping with Adam Lambert. How much more insane could Kris' world tolerate?

“You’re thinking too much,” Adam accused him, gently tapping on Kris’ skull with two fingers. “You have a hard time falling asleep because you’re always, always thinking. I suggest you lay all of your inhibitions to rest for now and give yourself the luxury of basking in my amazing sheets.”

“Maybe you should stay far away from me?” Kris ventured, knowing full well his octopus tendencies came out to play when he was asleep. “I tend to uhm, wrap myself around people.”

Adam laughed—honest-to-goodness laughed—and reached out to ruffle Kris’ hair. “I’ll take my chances. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would whip out a knife and stab me in my sleep.”

“Hey!” Kris said, somewhat indignantly. “Appearances can be deceiving! Just because I’m small and plaid doesn’t mean I’m completely harmless. I could be armed, you know.”

“Which you aren’t,” Adam pointed out. “You would make a terrible thief, Kristopher; I frisked you while I was trying to get you out of that blanket roll, and you didn’t even realize it.”

“I hate you,” Kris mumbled, burying his face into one of the pillows.

“No, you don’t,” Adam said pleasantly. “I promise I won’t take advantage of your virtue.”

Kris blushed; he would like Adam Lambert to take advantage of his virtue, thank you very much. Refusing to speak another word, he curled himself further into the sheets, barely registering the feather-light touch of lips to his forehead before drifting off.

~*~

“So, you weren’t kidding about being an octopus,” Kris heard Adam say. “I feel like a prisoner in my own bed with your limbs all over the place.”

“I told you so,” Kris mumbled into his chest. “This is why I always end up embarrassing myself when I’m sleepy, tired, high or drunk; I manage to make a teddy bear out of the nearest living thing.”

“You smell nice, at least,” Adam said conversationally, carding his fingers through Kris’ hair. “I think we can work some sleeping arrangements out—that was, by far, the best nap I’ve had in my life.”

“…sleeping arrangements?” Kris asked groggily. “Watchu talkin’ about?”

“I like having you here,” Adam grinned. “You’re pretty and you’re good for me—plus, I think I’m going to sleep better when I’m with you. If your house becomes too much for you, just send me a text—I’ll program my number into your phone—and I’ll pick you up at the park. Think of me as your personal sushi roll rescuer. Or something. Yeah.”

Kris snorted. “You really are weird; you’ll believe anything I say. Hah, I’d bet you’d even believe me if I said I had that naked picture of you mounted up on my bedroom ceiling.”

Adam’s eyes were gleaming dangerously. He rolled over and pinned Kris to the bed with the weight of his body, chuckling softly as Kris turned scarlet.

“You really do, don’t you?” he asked breathlessly.

Kris was looking everywhere but him. “Uhmm…sort of? I don’t look at it all the time, though—at least, not when I’m in my quilt.”

“You think we’d both fit in there?” Adam eyed the quilt curiously. “It seems…interesting.”

“Blanket origami?” Kris brightened. “I could show you!”

“Hmmmm…maybe later.”

And Adam kissed him.


End file.
